


The Case of the Pink Hairbow

by Smirkdoctor (orphan_account)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Glitter, M/M, Parentlock, Valentine's Day, hyperglycemia-inducing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 09:34:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9715613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Smirkdoctor
Summary: Rosie Watson has a very special assignment to complete...making Valentines for her family! Luckily, Mrs. Hudson is there to help.





	

Rosamund Watson grasped Mrs. Hudson’s hand with barely contained excitement as they walked home from her daycare. She had homework…for the first time since getting back from Christmas break! The multicolored sheets of construction paper were burning a hole in her My Little Pony backpack (the one she and S’lock had guilted Uncle Myc into buying for her) as she skipped over the sidewalk in front of 221 Baker Street.

Mrs. Hudson smiled down, feeling indulgent and happy as she directed her wiggly charge through the door to her flat. “Rosie, what’s gotten into you today?”

“I’ve got a project, Mrs. H!” Rosie quickly shed her backpack, placing it in its assigned place just inside the door then racing off to the sewing nook. “Do you have scissors and glue?”

“A project? Does this have something to do with Valentine’s Day?” Martha Hudson had never been the sentimental type, aside from the obvious soft spot she carried for her Baker Street Boys.

“Yes!” Rosie nearly squealed, emerging from the back room with Mrs. Hudson’s button box. “Will you help me? I’m sposta make cards for my family!”

“Oh!” Martha sat down a tray with two cookies for Rosie and a nice cuppa for herself. She watched with a soft smile as the blonde child withdrew a packet of paper from her bookbag.

“Yup!” Rosie grinned widely and spread her supplies. Two white, two pink, and two red sheets of construction paper and her beat-up pack of crayons now sat in front of the young girl, who was sitting on her legs and rummaging through the button box for more bits and bobs to add to her stash.

Martha helped Rosie work the safety scissors to cut out six large hearts, then watched as she scribbled flowers and ponies on each lopsided shape. Rosie used far too much glue to attach red and black buttons to the cards, then stacked them at Mrs. Hudson’s left elbow so the older woman could serve as scribe for the addressing of these treasures.

After finishing her tea and setting the cup and saucer aside, Mrs. Hudson picked up a black marker and sat, face serious, awaiting further instruction from her pig-tailed dictator. The young girl was pacing beside the table, fingers steepled at her chin in an unconscious Holmesian impression.

“Daddy first,” Rosie stated, the _obviously_ implied. She glanced over the table’s edge to make sure Mrs. Hudson was paying attention and writing the familiar word.

“Then Molly,” Rosie began, ticking off the members of her makeshift family on her fingers, starting with her best friend. “And Uncle Greg, Uncle Myc, _you_ …” She looked up from under her eyelashes and giggled as Mrs. Hudson stooped to kiss her forehead and pat the small pink bow which finished her right pigtail. “And Mama Mary!”

 Mrs. Hudson smiled again, eyes slightly misty, as Rosie grasped the small locket she always wore, the one protecting a picture of Mary Watson on her wedding day. Say what you might about John Watson, the man had done a good job of integrating the memory of his wife into Rosie’s life. Each holiday was marked by a visit to her gravesite, and Rosie had gotten into the habit of creating an appropriate card for her mother.

“That’s all, darling,” Mrs. Hudson stated as she straightened the pile and stood, moving to place the stack in Rosie’s bag.

“ _What?!_ ” Rosie cried, and Martha turned to find a distraught, sniffling child with huge tears running down both cheeks.

Mrs. Hudson was kneeling next to the girl and cuddling her in an instant, stroking her back and murmuring, “Oh, sweetheart…my angel…what is it?”

“Mrs. H, I can’t be out! I didn’t make one for _S’lock_ yet!” The girl’s sobs intensified as Martha worked to calm the small, shaking body.

“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Hudson worried her lower lip between her teeth as her eyes darted around her small flat. They landed on something hidden in a back corner and she broke into a smile. She grasped Rosie’s chin and gently tilted it to meet the red-rimmed eyes of the four-year old. “Darling, I’ve got an idea.”

<3<3<3<3<3

Sherlock Holmes nearly floated up the last three steps to 221B, the post-case high propelling him opposite gravity. It had been worth the late night and missing seeing his favorite little girl, to solve the case of fraud at an all-redheaded temp agency. He chuckled to think of what John would title the write-up in his blog, and began to organize his thoughts to tell a properly dramatic but deduction-driven tale to his Boswell.

After hanging his coat and scarf on the landing, Sherlock stepped through the door to the sitting room, but stopped in his tracks when he saw not only John, but his daughter, sitting in the Watson chair next to a slowly smoldering fire. Rosie burrowed into John’s chest, his arms loosely around her as they both breathed the peaceful breaths of the slumbering.

As Sherlock stared at the two most important people in his life, a glint of metallic sparkle on the edge of the mantelpiece caught his eye. He quietly stepped around the sleeping pair to look more closely…was that Billy the Second? His replacement skull had been missing since only months after the explosion that had destroyed Billy the First.

And now that skull was absolutely coated in silver glitter.

 _Happy Valentine’s Day, Sherlock! Love, Rosie (and John)_ was scribbled on a piece of paper that had been stabbed through with his buck knife.

Sherlock touched the small pink hairbow that had been adhered to Billy II’s temple and turned to face the sleeping Watsons.

“I love you, too,” he said, dropping a kiss to Rosie’s crown before lifting his eyes to John’s face. He startled when deep blue eyes, slightly cloudy from sleep, met his own, and Sherlock leaned down with a gentle kiss for his partner’s lips.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm at sweeter-than-cynicism over on Tumblr, if you wanna say hi!


End file.
